The New Shadow
by Dweller in the Deep
Summary: In the East the shadows gather and forgotten things shall soon be remembered, if there be any left to tell the tales.
1. Those Who Remember

The New Shadow 

A/N: Knowledge of 'The New Shadow', HoME, Volume 12, would be helpful.

This story is set one hundred years _after the death of Elessar_.

Disclaimer: _'…And the child of little understanding that makes a play of the deeds of his father may do so without thought of mockery, but because he is the son of his father.' - _Aule, _The Silmarillion_. 

I do not own the world of Middle-earth. I don't even own this chair. Though I _do_ agree with Tolkien. The book was too short.

__

Italics = visions 

Chapter 1

Those Who Remember

Nigh on one hundred years Eldarion, Elessar's son, had ruled ere he felt the hands of Time tugging more burdensomely on his limbs and shortening his long stride. And then he knew his reign would last little longer and made ready his son to bear the weight of the Kingship. 

Haleth, his wife, had been dead many years, leaving him only with his children for comfort. He had watched the line of the Stewards lengthen and their tombs fill Rath Dinen. Yes, death had never been far off in all his long years. Yet it was not his lot to die yet, and he lived to hear the whispers and see the shadow rise…. 

Morwen gathered her skirts and hurried along the road winding up to the Steward's House. The sky above had grown dark and the birds sang their last desperate notes before the light was gone completely. She tripped suddenly on the uneven path and her brother laughed to see her barely keep her balance.

'Confound you, Damrod!' she snapped. 'For it is you who have caused this haste!'

'Come now, Sister,' he teased, dancing on ahead, 'waste not your precious breath if you wish to keep pace with me.'

She hissed through her teeth, though Damrod was disappearing in the gathering gloom and could not hear.

As she neared her home, she slowed and collected herself. Smoothing out her burgundy dress, she ran her hands through her brown, sweaty hair to un-plaster it from her head.

Upon entering the Steward's House, she made her way to the dinning hall. 

'Late to sup again, Morwen?' her father asked with a disapproving eye, though not completely free off amusement.

'Forgive me, Papa, but certain matters-' here she eyed Damrod, who grinned back unashamedly- '-caused me to lose track of the hour.'

'And pray, what "matters" would they be?' her mother asked with a smile.

'Ask Damrod. He may tell you.' she sat down at the table and began her meal.

'Naru stranded her in the-'

Morwen spluttered angrily in her plate, hastily swallowing her food and correcting her brother's claim.

'Nay, Damrod. Not a beast with four, but a beast with two legs stranded me out in the wood today, and that same beast was there laughing when I entered the city after walking all the way back!'

And indeed it had been a long walk. She had been cooling her feet in the brook when she turned, only to see too late her brother making off with Naru through the trees. Her own two feet had been no match for horse and rider.

'Is this true, Damrod?'

'Aye, it is, though I was merely taking thought of the animal, who seemed weary of being tied to the tree.'

Andreth sighed. 'Will my children ever grow up? Damrod, you are now twenty winters, you should know better.'

'Mama, you seem to forget that my sister is capable of contriving like pranks or worse. What of her twenty winters?' he jested in retort.

'Enough. We shall hear no more of the ill you deal one another, for my ears grow weary of your stories.' Andreth scolded, though her eyes twinkled with mirth.

Morwen woke uneasily, as she had every night since the ill tidings had been brought to the Emyn from the South.

Tonight she felt more deeply stirred than usual and the air of her chamber seemed too close. Donning her linen robe over her nightclothes, she padded through the stone halls with bare feet. Finally free of the house, she made her way over the damp grass, savouring the sweet night air which filled her lungs. Overhead the stars glimmered. When she was younger she'd been determined to count them, though now she laughed at her childish folly.

And then she stood before it, the grave of her foremother, Éowyn of the Shield-arm. It was said that she refused to be buried beside her husband in Rath Dinen, for she would rather her barrow be under the stars and covered with grass, after the fashion of her people. 

In the night gloom her statue towered menacingly over Morwen. There was a circlet of flowers about her head. One hand rested upon her sword, while the other held a dove, and the stone eyes gazed intently up at the sky.

She bowed her head and sat at the stone-woman's feet.

'Éowyn, what news tonight?' she murmured.

And suddenly it seemed that the stars were extinguished and all was black, save the statue, which glowed faintly.

All of a sudden, the statue turned her stone head from the sky to stare into Morwen's eyes.

__

'Herumor. Those that live to remember can be made to forget.'

Morwen trembled. 

'Who are you?' she cried.

'Morwen? Morwen, are you all right?' she felt someone slapping her face.

'Damrod?' she yelped, her eyes flying open. 'What is the meaning of this?'

He seemed worried and had not yet let go of her arm, as though he feared she would vanish.

'I sensed you out here and followed. I found you in a swoon at the Lady's feet.' there was sweat on his brow. He had been truly afraid.

'The Lady!' Morwen gazed up at her accusingly, though she seemed unchanged and Morwen wondered if she had been dreaming. 'She spoke to me!'

Damrod finally released her and rubbed his face. 'Spoke to you? Sister, she is stone. Sit a while, for you are weary.' all trace of his usual playful tone was gone. He studied her long. Perhaps she had hit her head?

'Damrod, I am quite sain.' she hissed, for as his twin she had ever been able to read his thoughts.

'Then what did she tell you?' he asked, and the doubt was obvious in his voice.

__

'Herumor. Those that live to remember can be made to forget.'

She shuddered. Damrod stood and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

'Herumor? Nay, sister. Do not let him keep you awake at night.'

Morwen glared at him, her brow furrowed in anger. She got to her feet groggily. 'How can you make little of such a thing? With the news of Borlas' death only three moons passed and the rumours we have heard?'

'Rumours, yes. For that is all they are.'

'As you wish, Damrod. Yet tonight the stone hath spoken and bequeathed a warning: in the East there lies a shadow.'

'Speak of this no more. Nay, I mean it, Sister. I shall not listen to your dark predictions. Why do you delight in ill news so?' his voice was rising higher in anger.

She slapped him soundly across the face. 'You have not the wit to see your death-stroke falling. It shall be painless. There is your happy prophecy.' and she brushed past him, back to her chambers.

She closed the shutters and lit a candle, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the dancing flame.

__

'In the east they dwell, hoarding the dark as though it were gold.'

'Éowyn.' she whispered, the breath leaving her lungs. 

Éowyn stood beside the shuttered windows, facing them as though she could see outside.

__

'This it was that Darkness itself told me as I lay in a dream. 

'Fair of skin and dark of heart. They call to their kin, leading them ever East. Those of Herumor's blood they prize most of all, and fell deeds they accomplish as they journey towards the calling dark.' 

Suddenly she turned and gazed straight at Morwen, who was speechless. Her white-robbed form approached.

'_The thoughts trouble me so I cannot rest.'_

The vision ended and she woke.

Light seeped in dimly from behind the shutters. The candle had burnt out. Morwen lay back on her bed, not moving at all.

Andreth knocked on her daughter's door. She had grown worried, for Morwen had missed breakfast. Her anxiety had grown even more when Damrod had finally told her what troubled him.

'Morwen?' she called as she opened the door to the dim room. She saw her daughter lying back on the bed, gazing unblinkingly up at the ceiling.

'Mama?' her voice came softly, as if from a great distance.

Andreth shut the door and sat beside her, taking one of her slender white hands in her own worn and calloused ones.

'Tell me what you saw.'

'The Shadow. The Lady Éowyn came to me and told me what she herself had been told as she lay under the curse of the Black Breath.'

Andreth bowed her head. 'The Shadow I too have seen, though the messenger was another.'

'You have seen things too?' she began to sob. 'Damrod thinks me mad and I was beginning to wonder…'

Andreth held her in her arms and patted her back.

'Dark times ahead, my dear. The King shall not reign much longer.'

'I knew this without the gift of foresight.' Morwen murmured. 'Uncle I call him, for he is dear to me, and I shall miss him when he departs.'

'Yes, Eldarion loves you for you remind him of his mother and sister. And in that respect at least is Herendil his father's son: that he also loves my daughter.' she smiled the way she did when revealing something she knew Morwen thought was secret.

Morwen blushed. 'He thinks me a child, which I am compared to his years.'

Andreth winked slyly. 'As you will.'

Men were disappearing. Every week another went missing. It began about the water-cities of Pelargir and Dol Amroth, but now Minas Tirith began to report people missing. The elderly were found slaughtered, so the things that should have been heard were silenced.

'…_Those who live to remember can be made to forget.'_

The words often echoed in Morwen's mind. 

Morwen tugged at the sleaves of her dress. The heat was unbearable. She sipped her water and fanned herself with her free hand. The garden outside the window lay wilted, begging for water and reprieve from the unforgiving sun.

__

'I had changed from a Lilly, delicate and fair, to an ancient pine, gnarled, and beautiful no more, save revered for its wealth in years. And I walked these very gardens, bowed and leaning heavily on a cane. Yea, I was Shieldmaiden no longer, save in title.

'It was then that He appeared before me. He whom Heaven had refused and Hell would not take. 

Herumor. And he said to me: 'If you have slain the Darkness, then you have taken the Darkness upon yourself. It is in your very soul. The choice is yours now: To follow me East, thither where Shadows show no age, or to remain here and die as a dog.' 

'As a dog I shall die, and have greater honour than thou, thou who art no better than carrion-fowl.' came my reply, and his shadow-hand reached into my chest and squeezed my heart till it beat no longer. And then I passed into memory…'

Morwen's vision swam as Éowyn's face faded. She slumped against the wall, dropping her waterglass and shattering it.

Her mother and father rushed over, asking what was wrong.

'The King is dead.' she whispered before loosing consciousness.


	2. The Shadows Gather

Chapter 2

The Shadows Gather

A/N: Allow me to explain myself. Several things have all conspired against me lately to prevent me from posting this chapter. One is the fact that I'm on holidays, which has given me less, rather than more, time to write. Two, we just got two puppies (Foxie x Maltese Terriers…so cute!!!) and they kinda sidetracked me for a while there… "DOGS! Put down the damn shoe!" ahem…

And thirdly, someone carelessly left poison lying around and killed all my ideas. *sigh*

Lyggy: No, Éowyn and Aragorn didn't marry in this fic, though I am a fan of A/E relationships. Thanks for the review!

P.S: You're right about the Tolkien thing. Lol.

leah: Thankyou!

Jessamyn: I'm glad you liked it.

Tigerlilly: Wow! You reviewed practically everything! *blushes* Thanks soo much! 

She woke gasping for breath.

'Let us make for the city.' was the first thing she uttered, pushing away the worried hands and ignoring the questions being fired after her retreating form.

'Andreth?' Angelimir asked, shooting an anxious glance at his wife. 'What hath afflicted our daughter so?'

He had always known Andreth saw more, heard more, in life and dreams than any other. She was accounted wise among men and few things ever took her by surprise.

But she would only set her mouth in a grim line and shake her head.

He knew it was futile to ask her more.

Morwen galloped Neru hard. Damrod kept pace beside her, their legs almost touching as their mounts heaved for air.

He kept shooting glances at his sister, wondering what demons troubled her.

She had started changing well before now. When news had arrived of Borlas, son of Beregond's death. He knew her thoughts were disturbed so that she woke every night and paced the halls, trying to make sense of the dream that had awoken her but then eluded her memory.

And just as she could see his thoughts, he also could see hers. Thither he had heard the name of Herumor, and his eyes had widened in alarm so that he looked at her fearfully, yet her face had showed no sign of her thoughts.

Herumor held an ill name, though his deeds had long since faded to rumour amongst the aged, who had only heard the tales from their fathers before and their fathers before them, in a time when still the truth had lost its certainty and significance.

Ahead, the white city loomed, tall and proud. Yet even Damrod deemed that a shadow had fallen upon it and the sun's warmth felt cold on his back.

At the seventh gate, Morwen dismounted and let the servant worry for her horse as she ran franticly through the streets and up to the White Tower.

'The King is dead. Dead!' the women cried, and Morwen's heart felt as a stone in her chest.

Dirty and dishevelled, she made her way through the vast corridors of the citadel, and Damrod followed her as a shadow. Their parents' lagged further behind, setting a pace that age would allow. 

As they neared the King's chamber, a great chorus of wailing met their ears. 

'Let me pass! It is I, Morwen, the Steward's daughter.'

A servant came and bowed tearfully before her.

'Nay, Lady. I cannot let you enter in, for Herendil, our new Lord, weeps still over his father's body and has bid all leave him be.' 

'He shall forgive me.' she insisted, pushing her way to the door and opening it slightly.

'My Lord?' she whispered.

'Did I not request peace!' came a harsh voice laden with sorrow.

She stepped inside, while Damrod remained outside. 

'Morwen?' he asked, surprised. 'Ill luck is this, that you should enter the city at this grim time.' he held the dead King's hand and seemed reluctant to leave him.

''Twas not luck that brought me here, Lord.' she replied quietly.

'Yet I sent no messenger to advise you of these bleak tidings. How, then, could you know?'

She ignored his words and assumed a position at the Kings' side, kissing his forehead.

'I loved him.' she said, smiling sadly through her tears.

'As did I.' he replied with a sigh.

Eldarion's grey hair had been arrayed neatly in a halo about his head. His dark eyes were closed and he should have looked peaceful, save that there was something not right about his expression.

'What happened?' she asked.

'Alas that you should ask me this question, for I refuse to answer. Ask Gilel, the servant, who was here at the time.' his voice was bitter. Morwen nodded and left.

As she closed the door behind her, the people hushed their wailing. Her mother, father, and brother waited expectantly for her to speak.

'Who among you is named Gilel?' she asked.

'That would be I, miss.' came a shy voice, and the mourners moved aside to reveal a slight woman with fair hair. 

'Tell me what befell the King.'

'Aye, miss.' she wrung her hands together and stared at the floor as she spoke. 'I was bringing the King his morning meal. He'd taken to eating it in his chambers. I set the tray down on the side-table and he spoke words of greeting, for he was always kind to me, Miss.

'Yet something strange happened then. The room went dark, though the sun shone beyond the open window, and the King began to act strangely, staring at something I couldn't see. He seemed to be struggling with an unseen foe, and I was frightened. My terror was so great that I stood rooted to the spot, and it was only afterwards that I realised I had been screaming. It alerted the other servants, but the King had already passed.' she wept silently.

Morwen nodded mutely, departing to the courtyard.

'It was the same shadow.' Morwen told Andreth as they sat beside the White Tree. The Great King had planted it some two hundred and thirty five years ago. Its leaves were dark and green, its branches high and roots deep.

'Herumor.' Andreth whispered under her breath, nodding grimly. 

It seemed to Morwen that every time the name was mentioned the shadow in her heart clouded her eyes. 

'I need to find out more.' she said more to herself then Andreth, wondering just how she would go about it.

They remained in Minas Tirith for the funeral of the King and the crowning of the new King, and attended the feast.

Morwen stood out on the balcony, attempting to avoid the rather repulsive creature she'd been forced to dance with several times already. 

She could see Damrod conversing with several ladies by the wine table, and they seemed to find something he said very amusing, for all three of them had thrown back their elegant heads to laugh. The beautiful music of their laughter floated back to her, and her hand self-consciously flew to her hair, which she twirled absently about her finger. 

Her gown was white, embroidered with golden thread, while her hair cascaded down her back uninhibited. 

What was the point in styling it as the other ladies did, she wondered. She knew her hair would find a way to free itself ere the night was done. 

Turning away from all the beautiful people, she stared out at the night sky.

'Is my feast not to your liking?'

Spinning around to face the familiar voice, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face.

'You cannot ever hope to please a woman, my king.' she replied.

'Ah, yes,' Herendil laughed, leaning against the rail beside her. 'I do recall saying such a thing once, though the memory of the exact occasion escapes me…'

'It was years ago, when you came to the Emyn and asked me what I honestly thought of your new steed.' she supplied, knowing full well Herendil was incapable of forgetting anything.

'Indeed! To which you replied: I have never seen such a sorry excuse for an animal. It was then that I told you his name was Naru, and he was yours.'

They laughed heartily at the memory, neither wanting to remember that Eldarion lay cold in his tomb.

'Yet he is far from the awkward colt he once was. Naru is magnificent now.' Morwen replied.

'But of course! Did you think I would gift to you anything but the best?'

Morwen blushed and looked down at her feet.

'Nay. You always did spoil me.' 

'Say not spoiled, for that is a word I reserve for my sisters.' he replied.

'Speak not so, my king, for they are here tonight.'

He frowned.

'My king? What is this, Morwen? Am I not your friend, Herendil, still?'

'My friend, and my king.' she answered.

'Farther once told me, and wisely, that where authority starts, friendship ends.' 

Morwen smiled strangely.

'Then how am I to treat you, lord, with disrespect or contempt?'

'Treat me as you always did.' he shrugged in a very un-king-like manner.

'Very well.' she nodded.

'Care to dance?'

She smiled and took his hand.

Angelimir had attended many council meetings of late regarding the disappearances of the townsfolk and what they were to do about it. So they remained in the city a little longer.

One night, Morwen had tried to leave the house for the city streets, when Damrod found her.

'Absolutely not!' he hissed, his grip almost painful about her wrist. 'You would walk the city at this hour? Nay, I cannot let you. Too many have gone missing of late.'

Morwen let out an annoyed sigh. 'I would try to find out why.'

'By going missing yourself?'

They held each other's eyes in a fierce stare. The hall was dark about them and every noise echoed keenly about the stone.

'You do not believe in Herumor, do you?' she asked.

Damrod shook his head wearily.

'Surely not this again? Herumor is not causing the disappearances. He is long since dead.'

'Then, dear brother, what _is_ causing these happenings?'

He sighed. 'I know not, Sister. But mayhap the trying events of late have made you jump to certain conclusions all to readily.'

She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp.

'I am many things, Damrod; not all of them good, and yet I am not brash unto folly. So this I say to thee: come with me tonight, and we may see who's theory is disproved.' 

He hesitated a moment, staring back into the dark recesses of the hall. Yet he nodded his head and opened the door.

'Aye, Morwen. We shall see if this darkness has a name.' 

'A city under moon, is all it seems to me.' Damrod murmured as they wandered through the winding streets of the Second Circle.

'Nay, Damrod. Something feels amiss.' 

Her skin tingled strangely. She wondered if Damrod was hiding his uneasiness. Then she saw him shudder and knew he felt it to.

'It is the cold.' he insisted upon seeing her enquiring look, though there was no cold to speak of.

'It is the Shadow.' she countered still more quietly. 

It was then that they heard voices chanting eerily. The words were brought to their ears by a sudden wind.

__

'Fair of skin and dark of heart, dwell in shadows evermore…'

'Do you hear?' Morwen murmured.

'Aye. Come this way.' 

He grasped her hand and they headed hastily north along the cobbled way.

Morwen began to feel unsure of their quest. What would they find?

__

'Follow East the rising sun, go thither kin of Herumor…'

They came to a sudden drop in the land, descended by many stairs. At the bottom a crowd of men, women, and children sat around a fire. There was the strong smell of incense upon the air, so that Morwen felt ill and wondered how the people could abide it.

They shrank back, unseen, into the cover of a gnarled tree, each gaping at the unutterable scene before them.

A carcase of a pig lay at the feet of a man, who painted the blood in strange runes upon the faces of the others. 

Still the chanting continued, rising and falling in volume.

Others danced around the fire and, to Morwen's horror, she realised they wore orc-masks, which appeared fearfully real in the ethereal glow of the fire. 

'Enough.' she whispered to Damrod, pulling him away from the scene and the stench. He only walked slowly, as if in a dream (or nightmare) at first, while Morwen cried and begged him to hasten. And then it seemed that he woke from his stupor and they ran crazily through the streets, fearing every half-seen shadow and whisper of wind as it rustled through tree and bush.

As they entered the house, Damrod secured the door while Morwen closed the shutters and lit the candles.

'Do you believe me now!' she sobbed, her hands trembling as she lit one candle with another.

Damrod said nothing, only lent against the door, fear still written on his features.

They heard footsteps and Morwen took the dagger from her side.

'What is the meaning of this?' Angelimir asked. Andreth stood beside him, both dressed in their night-garments and wearing expressions of surprise.

Morwen re-sheathed her dagger, staring at Damrod helplessly.

'It was…' she began, though the words soon died on her tongue.

'The Shadow. We have seen it at work tonight.' Damrod supplied as he slid to the floor.

'You have ventured out at this hour? Damrod, what were you thinking, putting yourself and your sister at risk so?'

'Papa, it was I who compelled Damrod to go. I would have gone alone, save that he hindered me.'

Andreth waved her hands dismissively, as though at the moment this was the least important issue to be discussed.

'Tell me exactly what you saw. Spare no detail, trifle though it may seem.'

At length, they both offered all they had seen, heard, and smelt, shuddering at the memories.

'Why? What madness would lead a good people to orc-worship and turn their eyes from light to the dark?' Angelimir murmured in shock.

'This is yet another weakness of Man, dear husband. That we cry when times are evil, and turn to evil out of tedium when times are good.'

'You say that we make battles for ourselves, when there are none to be fought, out of idleness?' 

She nodded her wizened head.

'Men seek battles so they may win honour and glory: wishing to be recorded among the Great in the books of Lore. And the nature of shadows may seem fair to them at first. '_Come, friend, wherefore dost thou slave in thy gardens, when yet others sit idly in the shade feasting upon what thou have reaped?'_ And yea, the words would seem wise, save that later, and bitterly, they would learn that He would have them slave in _His_ garden, with little rest and no reward. 

'Eldarion is dead now, and the Shadow grows more bold.'

'Then the Shadow hath spoken to you?' Morwen asked, eyes wide.

'Aye, though I shall say no more on the matter.' Andreth replied firmly.

'All this is fine,' Damrod interjected, breaking his long silence and finally standing from the floor. 'Yet what are we to _do_ about it?'

All eyes turned to Andreth, who stared straight ahead and said nothing for many moments.

'We can do nothing, save wait. The time is not yet ripe.'

'Wait? While more people fall to folly?' Damrod banged his fist against the wall. 'While yet more people go missing?'

'These people are not missing. They are heading East. Tell me, how can you stop a bird from returning to its nest?' she directed the question to Damrod, who promptly answered:

'Ruin the nest.'

'So we must wait, you see, for we know the direction, but not the _location_ of this certain nest.'

'More to the point,' Morwen muttered, 'We need learn the nature of these birds, and the nest they build.'

'Tomorrow, I shall bring all we know before the King, so that he too may keep his eyes and ears open.' Angelimir said, and so concluded their exchange that night.


End file.
